HAPPY BOXERS

Moments ago it struck me that it is always worthwhile to invest in nice underwear. This while admiring my own fine boxers. In addition to what our mothers always told us -- if there's an accident, the emergency personnel will either leave the person with unworthy undies untended, OR take them straight to the landfill out by the old coal plant and dump their nasty corpses -- the other reason is that you never know when some hot starlet will see you at a cocktail party and ravish your fine young body.

Happy boxers; a man needs him some happy boxers.

The world is good because of happy boxers.

At fifty four, I realize that that the possibility of ravishment by starlet is just not very likely, no matter how gay the cocktail party. And no, I did not spend years waiting for it to happen, as I only just thought of it. If there were starlets I liked, it would sound like a very nice idea. And in that case I might move to Pacific Heights or Hollywood just to increase my chances.

The thing is, my body is not fine and young.
It's sort of okay and middle-aged.
Ravishing is not on the agenda.
Darn it.


But whether you are male or female, nice underwear is always worthwhile at whatever age. It inspires confidence. There you'll be, waiting for the bus, as a nearby crazy streetperson threateningly jibbers at you. But you'll know that underneath your pinstripe or overalls, you are wearing a lovely little black lace bra and panty set, and it will inspire you.
It just has to. You feel sexy, self-assured!
Prepared for any eventuality.
Yay!


Unfortunately, lovely little black lace and pantie sets only come in sizes that suggest small, lithe, and petite. And female. With a modicum of appropriate curvature. For reasons that I cannot fathom -- possibly sexist and discriminatory -- they aren't made for men of normal dimensions. It's very disempowering.
Not that I would ever wear either part of that ensemble, please understand, but I feel that I should have the option. Freedom, democracy, the pursuit of happiness and such things.
Plus eventualities. One must always be prepared.

It's an issue of personal validation.


Happy boxers just don't say it.

Yes, the sense of confidence is there -- heck, with these bad boys I can swan about at any bus stop fully clothed, no matter the throng of loonies -- but it just doesn't feel as free and happy and totally actualized.

I lament the inequality of modern life.




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